


Of Mice And Men

by Tazii



Series: Nuts & Volts Week [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, And also a gun, Anti-Faunus Racism (RWBY), Arthur has mother issues, Enemies to Lovers, Faunus!Arthur, Human!Tyrian, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nuts & Volts Week, Once again lots of random nameless character deaths, Past Abuse, Scientist!Tyrian, Tyrian's a dick, but what else is new, forced drugging, forced human experimentation, mentions of amputation, which is a great combination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22648681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazii/pseuds/Tazii
Summary: “If you know so much about me then you should know what happened after that. Tell me,scientist, what happened next?” It was a warning. A threat. Arthur wanted Tyrian to tremble as he recalled the notes, but all he managed was another bout of uncontrolled laughter.The gun pressed in harder and Tyrian sucked a breath through his teeth, steeling himself as he stifled his own hysteria.”Gladly."
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Series: Nuts & Volts Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627864
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: Nuts and Volts Week 2020





	Of Mice And Men

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of [Nuts & Volts Week](https://nutsandvoltsweek.tumblr.com/)  
> Role Reversal
> 
> If you're interested in the ship or just want to support some amazing work, please check the blog out and give everyone some love.
> 
> Thank you once again to Scrumpy for beta'ing and wading through all the unnecessary commas i throw into these things for no real good reason  
> And those running this amazing event, and everyone else participating in feeding the ship!
> 
> Please enjoy!!

“My Goddess, _please_ , you cannot-”

“I cannot _**what**_ , Arthur?”

Tyrian swallowed the fit of giggles in the back of his throat, silencing them in favour of a quiet wheeze. His fingers were threaded together to keep them still, wild eyes flicking between the riled faunus and his cruel mistress.

Salem, the so-called _Goddess_ , had reached her hand out to him. Invited him into her halls to prosper and grow. She’d spun him her tales of Gods and cruelty and a world they could all shape together. A world that Tyrian would contribute to.

Though, to be perfectly honest, the end game wasn’t all that interesting to him. Nor was the stories of Gods and love and heartbreak. 

It was the methods of accomplishing her desires that drew Tyrian in. The promise of death and pain inflicted on those who undermined his genius. His fingers tightened in his grip, nails biting into the back of his hands at the thought.

Then, as Salem led him through her halls- _through his new home-_ they’d come across _him_.

In his defence, Tyrian could not blame the look of complete _panic_ on Arthur’s face, nor the way he’d fallen to his knees to plead for Salem to reconsider. An Atleasian scientist with freedom to roam these halls had to panic the once literal _lab rat_.

Another laugh bubbled in his throat as he watched Arthur flinch away and bow his head, grovelling at his mistress’ feet. Apologies were spewed out in a rush and Tyrian began to tap his fingers together utterly _fascinated._

The defiant murderer _Arthur Watts_ laying himself flat to the feet of authority. How _thrilling_.

The very thought forced a bubble of laughter to slip from his mouth and Tyrian quickly pressed his hands flat together to press them to the centre of his lips and silence himself.

Salem paid the madman no mind, but Arthur? Their eyes met and a thrill thrummed deep within his chest at the pure spiteful _fury_ found in those tired green eyes.

\---

Arthur predictably avoided him. That was fine. Perfectly fine. Tyrian wouldn’t take it as an insult. No, all things considered, it was remarkable the faunus hadn’t killed him in his sleep. The instant Tyrian was given a room he’d outfitted with with automatic defences, but the fact Arthur hadn’t even _tried_ was a little disappointing.

He couldn’t keep it up forever regardless. During meetings Tyrian watched his body language. Watched as Arthur would avoid his gaze when his Goddess was watching only to scowl the moment he was free of her retaliation. 

Tyrian, however, was unashamed with his staring. 

If it wasn’t for the long stark-white whiskers protruding from his unkempt moustache, it would be so easy to miss his faunus features. His moustache dipped and curled over his top lip but stare long enough and anyone could see the difficulty he had closing his mouth. The way he clicked his teeth and would grind them absentmindedly. The elongated central incisors sat awkwardly in his mouth and every once in awhile Tyrian would hear the slight whistle in his words. Tyrian would practically wiggle in his seat everytime which only earned him another furious glare.

_So sensitive_. He wondered if Arthur grew out his moustache to hide them, or in fear that he’d shave off his whiskers too.

Every once in awhile Arthur’s whiskers would twitch, nose crinkled before he’d grind his teeth, and Tyrian struggled with the urge to climb across the table and pry his mouth open to see it all better.

But interrupting Salem’s meetings was unforgivable and Tyrian wasn’t ready to die just yet. Not when there were so many horrors for him to unleash on the world.

The moment the meetings were over Arthur would scurry away and it was an utter shame. 

Thankfully he was _predictable_. Even before the weeks Tyrian had spent observing Arthur’s behaviour he could pinpoint just where Arthur went to blow off steam.

A murderer with pent up rage was _bound_ to lash out with violence, and Tyrian wondered if it was _his_ face Arthur pictured as he clashed with a snarling beowolf. 

Tyrian had done his studies on Arthur Watts. As a general rule he was a gunslinger. Impersonal and cold, always keeping his distance from his victims. When it was personal apparently the proverbial gloves were _off_.

Arthur’s guns were holsters and he otherwise had no way of finishing off the vile creature, but that hardly stopped him knocking the beast down and landing on top, hands curled around the beowolf’s throat as he screamed.

A pretty sound of agony and hatred and Tyrian hummed in great delight at the harrowing noise. 

“How _exhilarating_ ,” Tyrian called out and Arthur sat up at in instant, weapon drawn as he twisted atop the beowolf and took his shot at Tyrian.

Tyrian didn’t bother to dodge. Didn’t need to. A flicker of a barrier flashed up in front of the shot, a barrier of hard light dust, and the dust round ricocheted back at the exact angle.

Arthur dived and dodged, and the beowolf pushed itself up just in time for the bullet of fire to strike it in the throat.

The beast was down and disintegrating before Arthur could even stand again, teeth bared in a snarl as he locked his gun on Tyrian’s form.

Tyrian wasn’t the slightest bit bothered. His eyes trailed the smoke as it raised, a giggle bubbling forth as he clapped his hands together rapidly.

“Your bullets _are_ so much more potent than standard Dust rounds! _Marvellous_. This is how you tore through so many auras, isn’t it? I wonder- Are they altered or is it the work of a semblance? A power designed purely to take the lives of others. _Fascinating._ ”

Arthur snarled one more and took another reckless shot only to dive out of the way when it was reflected from Tyrian’s shield. 

Tyrian’s eyes flashed back to the frustrated faunus, pure mirth tugging on his lips before he folded his hands together.

“Now now, Arthur, we’re _colleagues_ now. We wouldn’t want to upset your Goddess now, would we?”

“Don’t speak of our queen so lowly! You can still serve her without your _tongue!_ ”

Tyrian breathed a laugh, brows shot high as he studied the other. The tension and intent. Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew without cause harming Tyrian would only end in his own punishment, something he was desperate to avoid, but he wanted Tyrian to believe he would so _badly_.

Such a shame for him.

“Now don’t get me wrong!” Tyrian insisted as he crept slowly into the training room and disrupting Arthur’s comfort. “Our lady indeed is marvellous herself. I can see why you turned to a self-imposed religion after abandoning science-”

“ _Abandoning?_ ” Arthur spat, lips curled back in clear disgust. As Tyrian moved around one side of the room, Arthur mirrored, circling around one another with a gun still raised between them. “Science was my prison! Experimented on for years! Cut open and prodded, like a damn-”

“Lab rat?” Tyrian prompted, tilting his head out of the way of the next shot this time. Not because it was necessary, but because he wanted Arthur to know he could. 

“The things you people- you _scientists-_ did to me!”

“Oh no no no!” Tyrian jumped forward, hands raised in a mocked sign of peace as Arthur stepped back at the action. “I never had the _pleasure_ of getting my hands on your body.”

“Bastard!”

“Now now, there’s no need to be so _hurtful_. We’re both mad at the same people after all!”

“I doubt we are,” Arthur brushed off, finally lowering his gun. As if deciding Tyrian wasn’t worth the stress, he turned his back on the scientist and holstered his gun as he moved to leave.

Tyrian only skipped behind chasing after his newfound interest.

“I doubt you know all that much about me, Arthur, but _boy_ do I know about you. It’s so unfortunate I was brought into the labs _after_ your daring escape. Actually, I believe your retaliation to those who tormented you may have led to my employment! Really, I owe you _oh so much._ ”

Arthur withdrew his other gun and shot before Tyrian’s feet. A wall of ice shards sprung up from the bullet and blocked Tyrian’s path.

The scientist huffed at the blockage, leaning up on his toes as he tried to claw his way through a gap on top.

“A faunus, presumably born to two human parents! Such controversy! Your very existence put Atlas into a frenzy! Suddenly everyone was concerned their precious _human_ children would be born with tails and ears. It was speculated that it was the result of a recessive gene, but they couldn’t be sure until they cut you open and OOPH-!”

Tyrian’s foot caught on the hole e’d crawled through in the ice, making him tumble forward and fall to the floor in a heap. 

Arthur stopped in his retreat to turn and frown in disgust, unimpressed at the sight.

“For years! _Decades!_ ” Tyrian continued as he awkwardly pushed himself up, eyes wild with fascination as he recounted the details Arthur should know _all too well_. “Until your mother died and it was revealed she was hiding the fact that _she_ was a faunus! How cruel a woman she must have been, letting you suffer their experimentations all so she could play the part of human. It’s no wonder you latched onto the first woman to show you an _ounce_ of kindness.”

Arthur strode forward, those bright green eyes burning with unhidden _anger_ and anguish. He pressed the muzzle of his gun against Tyrian’s forehead and the scientist’s shoulders shook with poorly hidden laughter.

“If you know so much about me then you should know what happened after that. Tell me, _scientist_ , what happened next?” It was a warning. A threat. He wanted Tyrian to tremble as he recalled the notes, but all he managed was another bout of uncontrolled laughter.

The gun pressed in harder and Tyrian sucked a breath through his teeth, steeling himself as he stifled his own hysteria.

_”Gladly._

“They pumped you full of drugs. They figured since you were now _useless_ to them they might as well use you to the point of death. But they messed up, didn’t they? One made you violent. You’d always been so quiet and obedient before then but something got into your blood and you _snapped_. A huntsmen brought in a gun to finish your miserable existence only to have the gun turned on him.

“You slaughtered fourteen scientists during your escape then proceeded to murder twenty-six civilians as you fled. You didn’t care who they were. Men. Women. Human. Faunus. You were too high on drugs to tell the difference between a scientist and the innocent _begging_ for their lives. You fled and you continued to kill long after the drugs were out of your system.

“Murder was your retaliation. The one thing that warmed your dead heart until the Goddess of Death herself opened her arms for you.”

“Then you know what I’m _eager_ to do to you.”

Arthur lowered his gun, nostrils flared with unbridled hatred and long teeth _grinding_ before he turned again.

“Don’t come near me. _Don’t touch me_.”

Tyrian stayed rooted to the spot this time, his twisted smile twitching at the retreating figure.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

\---

_”Arthur’s in need of a new hand.”_

Tyrian still remembers the wheezed breath of surprise that escaped his lungs, and dismay twisting Arthur’s drawn in face. The shattered pride and hurt as he cradled his poorly bandaged arm. 

Arthur was ambidextrous; a little piece of information Tyrian had no right to know but absolutely _did_ anyway. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a hand he favoured over the other. A hand he used to shoot and kill.

A hand that was now _gone_. 

He could hate Tyrian as much as he pleased but Tyrian was the only chance he had to regain another unless he wanted to end up like Cinder. 

He didn’t have to say it, but Arthur knew perfectly well that Tyrian was thinking it.

_’Don’t touch me.’_

Sometimes the world was just so _cruel_.

Not only did Arthur have to sit still and _allow_ Tyrian to touch him. So much crueller than that, Tyrian would _create_ a piece of him. That science he detested so much would become a piece of him. Mental scars were forever present but there was something much more rewarding in Arthur’s _dismay_ at the physical reflection.

Designing the hand was easy enough. A few measurements from Arthur and Tyrian could work on it mostly alone. It was the connection of the stump to the socket he needed Arthur for and the faunus had to suck it up and accept it at that point. 

They were forced to sit too close, knees pressed together as Tyrian worked. Well… forced wasn’t exactly right. Arthur may have been but Tyrian was delighted with the development.

True to his word Tyrian had kept his space. That didn’t stop the staring or the curt words, but never touch!

Until the poor proud man had to sit still as Tyrian manhandled his arm. 

A hand was so _simple_ compared to the work Tyrian preferred. A scientist disgraced for his less than ethical inventions. His weapons of war were all masterpieces and Ironwood was a fool to discard them so easily. To question his morals and insist he was pushing too far.

Unlike the short-sighted cyborg relying far too much on his fragile heart, Salem embraced the twisted machines and weapons Tyrian created with words of praise. 

But a hand? No, a hand was far too _dull_ for him. At least it was when it served a single function. 

Arthur could believe what he wanted about Tyrian’s intentions, but the madman believed Arthur would ultimately enjoy the upgrades that came with it.

_”Too tight,”_ Arthur hissed and Tyrian grunted in return as he adjusted the socket. 

They’d been at this for some time and even Tyrian was getting frustrated with Arthur’s aggression. But he was a perfectionist at heart and this had to work _perfectly_. 

His technology was flawless. Arthur could huff and puff about the situation he got himself into but it would be worth it in the end.

Satisfied with the work, Tyrian reattached the actual hand to the rest of his technology, connecting wires and dust deposits. The silver metal was rather smooth and pretty, each knuckle flickering blue as it connected with Arthur’s nerve system.

“Okay!” Tyrian shouted as he sat back, eyes wide in excitement. “Give it a try!”

Arthur was hesitant as he drew his hand back, a distrusting frown worrying his brow as his fingers twitched and curled in. He turned his hand over, examining the mechanics as they moved fluidly. The delay was practically non-existent and Arthur hummed in reluctant satisfaction.

“How does it feel? Does it fit right?” Tyrian pried and Arthur shot him an annoyed frown.

“Like a glove.”

Arthur pushed himself up, knees knocking against Tyrian’s as he turned to leave with a short _’thank you’_ only for Tyrian to jump up.

“Hold on! Hold on! You haven’t even seen the best part yet!”

Arthur paused and threw a glance over his shoulder and Tyrian took it as a _’go ahead’_.

“Flex your fingers! Stretch them back! Go on!”

Arthur huffed at his insistence but, to Tyrian’s great delight, he examined his hand again and stretched his fingers out.

Sharp claws suddenly protruded over rounded fingers, pointed and triangular with the tiniest holes at the tips.

Arthur stared in shock as he turned his hand over, examining the new claws. He may have hated Tyrian, but there was no denying the fleeting look of excitement in those pretty eyes.

“What are-?”

“They’re designed to poison!” Tyrian elaborated, too giddy to let Arthur even finish his question. “The tips! They secrete poison that enters the bloodstream and rots your enemies from within! It’s _poetic!_ ”

“Poetic?” Arthur pressed, turning properly to regard the excited scientist.

“Like a plague! You can poison your enemies and make them _suffer_. Pump fluid into their bodies like they did you for so _so_ long,” Tyrian hissed, lips peeled up into a wild smile. 

Arthur hesitated, brows raised in shock before he looked down down to his hand once more, voice low in wonder.

“Thank you..”

\---

“You know, Tyrian, you’re right. This is rather poetic.”

Tyrian watched in glee as scientists- _his past coworkers-_ convulsed at the floor, gasping for breath as they clawed at their own throats, bleeding from the claw marks Arthur had left.

It was beautiful. Oh so _satisfying_ for them both. 

Arthur strode over their bodies, disregarding them as filth as they twitched on the floor like dying flies.

He stretched his fingers as he admired them, pacing the lab as he relished in the blood he’d spilled. The vengeance he so rightfully was owed.

“We’ll see how well Atlas runs while James’ pets _rot_ ,” Tyrian chimed, skipping over his dying peers as he filed through information and invention.

Mantle was burning and Tyrian would make sure Atlas would too before Salem was at their doors.

It was a pleasure working together to torture a common foe, and Tyrian turned to watch Arthur curiously as he examined one scientist, marvelling in the light in his eyes fading.

Arthur had been surprisingly _easy_ to work with. To the point Tyrian would accuse Arthur of actually _enjoying_ his presence. Not that he’d voice it. Not if he didn’t want Arthur to pull back and deny it.

But when they caught each other’s eye now, both still riding the high of the slaughter of their shared enemy, Tyrian could swear Arthur’s smile was genuine.

Arthur’s whiskers would twitch and he’d turn and grind his teeth like he did everytime he went too soft, but Tyrian would take whatever Arthur was willing to offer.

\---

Tyrian had been perfectly content with lounging and reading a book when he was so _rudely_ interrupted by a lanky body collapsing on top of him.

Tyrian grunted, a wheeze forced from his lungs as his hand dropped down to the floor, book discarded as he regarded the exhausted man laying on him.

Arthur’s head was turned away, eyes slid shut as his whiskers twitched. Idly, Tyrian reached out and ran his fingers along one, enjoying the way Arthur’s nose twitched as his teeth rubbed together in quiet annoyance.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” Tyrian mused, taunting quietly before Arthur reached his prosthetic hand up and pressed it over Tyrian’s face, groaning as Tyrian’s laugh made his chest jump.

“You are an insufferable _prick_."

“From you?” Tyrian took Arthur’s hand and turned it over, pressing a kiss to blue knuckles. “I’d say that’s progress.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to catch me elsewhere, you can find me on: [Tumblr](https://taziidcvil.tumblr.com/)


End file.
